Strange Harvest

A Mirror to Our Morbid Fascination with True Crime.

Subtitled Occult Murder in the Inland Empire, “Strange Harvest” feels like an open letter to our culture’s obsession with serial killers—from true-crime podcasts to streaming series and documentariesdevoted to the most infamous predators—feeding our morbid curiosity and sadistic voyeurism.

But when does fascination tip into excess?

In his second outing as director, Stuart Ortiz has crafted an effective, unsettling mockumentary about a killer known as Mr. Shiny.

Some have already hailed it as the new “Poughkeepsie Tapes.” Personally, I don’t think it reaches that same level of relentless terror, but it succeeds in weaving a morbid fascination across both historical and contemporary cases.

Set in 2011, the film unfolds through interviews with police officers involved in the investigation and the grieving relatives of victims.

As the story progresses, Mr. Shiny emerges as a figure reminiscent of the Zodiac Killer—with hints of the Monster of Florence and cult suspicions—taunting investigators with letters and turning his crimes into a cruel cat-and-mouse game.

Mr. Shiny is an enigmatic figure in a simple but creepy mask. He doesn’t hide his intentions; his letters are less confessions than threats or dares, seemingly craving capture.

What begins as a Southern California terror gradually expands into a worldwide search for answers, echoing how killers often slip across borders, leaving only fragments of their twisted perversions behind.

By widening the frame, Ortiz underlines how serial killer mythology is never confined to one country—America in this case, land of the most idolized ones. It’s a worldwide phenomenon, where ideas, rituals, and patterns echo across different cultures.

That’s all you need to know. Giving too much away feels unfair. This is one of those films best approached blind—just enough to prepare you for the kind of darkness you’re about to enter.

“Strange Harvest” doesn’t build to a single explosive climax. Instead, over its 94 minutes, details drip-feed with grim logic. The realism is so carefully constructed that at times you forget you’re watching a fictional found-footage piece.

The film’s unnerving strength lies in this illusion: by the end, you may feel complicit, almost guilty, for wanting to keep watching and digging deeper.

No actual murders are shown on screen, yet the forensic evidence, crime scenes, and testimonies conjure chilling images that suggest the full weight of Mr. Shiny’s acts. These moments land with an emotional impact that’s hard to forget.

The performances are uniformly convincing, the cast inhabiting their roles with a naturalism that sells the mockumentary conceit. Ortiz’s direction complements this—measured and clear in interview-style segments, shaky and grainy when events spill into “reality.”

The cinematography sustains a constant unease, blurring the line between document and fiction until the camera itself feels like a character—an ever-present witness to horror.

Even as fragments of his identity emerge, Mr. Shiny remains deeply disturbing. The film flirts with occult undertones that lend the crimes an almost apocalyptic weight, yet wisely resists indulging too heavily in that direction.

Bleak, methodical, and disturbingly credible, “Strange Harvest” delivers a sickening slice of faux-documentary horror.

More than a simple fright piece, it critiques the true-crime obsession we—me included—are complicit in. It leaves you haunted, unsettled, and questioning why you wanted to watch in the first place.